Colin nodded. “And the federal government could impose martial law again like it did in ’14.” He watched Patrick a moment. “You seem distracted.”
“The fire was awful. I can understand not ever wanting to go underground again.” At his brother’s confused stare, he murmured, “I was a helmet man. Searched for survivors and then retrieved bodies.”
Colin blanched. “Why? You have a good job aboveground.”
Patrick shrugged. “I wanted to set money aside for Rose and Fee, and the North Butte encouraged those of us who were able and willing to learn how to do the job. They thought it would improve morale with the miners to see deskmen willing to go underground. I was the only one willing to take the training course last year.” He shook his head. “It paid well. Now I understand why.”
He sighed and took another long swig of his beer before focusing on his brother. “Col, it’s always wonderful to see you, but you have to tell me why you’re here. Is it Rissa? Sav? You and Araminta?”
“No. Yes. It has to do with Sav and Jeremy.” He paused as Patrick frowned. “And Melly.”
“Melly?” Patrick whispered. “What’s wrong with Melly?”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me, Pat?” Colin asked, unable to hide the hurt in his voice. “You’ve been back for years now.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.” He watched Colin with a cautious intensity.
Colin belted him in the shoulder before leaning closer and rasping, “That she’s your daughter. That you had a torrid love affair with Mrs. Smythe. That that’s the reason you had to leave Boston.”
Patrick choked on his drink, coughing and lowering his head toward the wall as he spit out some of his beer. He coughed a few minutes more as he shook his head in denial. “That’s not how it was, Col. You have to believe me.”
“Make me believe,” Colin demanded. He watched as Patrick paled, still struggling for breath. “Mrs. Smythe paid a call to Sav and Jeremy a few days ago. She tried to rip apart their world. How could you leave them open to such an attack from a woman like her?”
Jeremy closed his eyes. “I never thought she’d come to Montana.” He swiped a hand over his forehead and turned, resting his forehead against the wall. “I swear to you, I never meant to cause any pain.”
Colin grabbed his shoulder and spun him to face him. “Dammit, tell me the truth. Tell me what happened. Tell me why you abandoned us all those years ago.”
“I didn’t abandon you, dammit!” Patrick roared, his eyes flashing with pain and desolation. He lowered his voice so that they would not garner any further interest. “I was thrown out. By Da.”
Colin paled as he watched the torment on his brother’s face. “Da would never have done that to you, Pat.”
Patrick shook his head and laughed humorlessly. “Of course he would, and he did. He wanted no one to question his abilities as a man. As a husband.” Patrick swiped at his nose before slamming his hand against the wall.
Colin stood as though in a daze. “Are you saying you were with Mrs. Smythe? That you wanted to be with her?” His voice dropped. “That you are Melly’s father?”
“I don’t know if I am Melinda’s father. I hope I’m not as I haven’t amounted to much until recently.” He flushed as he looked at his brother. “You remember how soundly I sleep. Like I’m dead to the world and how it takes an army to awaken me?”
Colin nodded.
“Mrs. Smythe discovered that too.” Patrick cleared his throat, his flush more pronounced. “She had to awaken me a few mornings to ensure I made it to work on time. Mornings after I worked late, I had trouble waking on time.” He shared a chagrined look with his brother. “You remember what it’s like when you’re young. Your body sometimes acts in ways you wish it wouldn’t.”
Now Colin flushed. “Yeah, or you’d have dreams and …” They shared embarrassed smiles.
“Well, she took notice. And one morning I woke up to find her crawling out of my bed.” His jaw tightened. “I swear to you. I never sought her out. I never liked her. I hated how she treated Rissa, how she manipulated Da.”
“Jesus,” Colin whispered. “She … she …” He cleared his throat. “She had relations with you, and you didn’t even know?”
“I thought it was a dream,” Patrick whispered. “And, in that dream, she wasn’t the woman involved.”
Colin leaned against the wall, flummoxed. “How did Da find out?” He met Patrick’s resigned gaze. “She told him, didn’t she?” His jaw firmed. “She got what she wanted—a baby and you out of the way.”
“She wanted all of us gone,” Patrick whispered. “That was her goal.”
Colin hit him on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you write us? Why didn’t you tell us what happened?”
Patrick glared at him. “I did. I wrote you, over and over, and never got a response. I now presume she intercepted the letters.” Patrick closed his eyes in defeat. “When I never heard back from you and Rissa, I considered my family, all of my family, dead to me. I thought none of you wanted to hear from me again. I thought you already knew of my shame.”
Colin frowned. “We had no idea.” He gripped Patrick around the nape of his neck. “Clarissa is very confused. She doesn’t know what to believe.” Colin shook his head in disgust. “She doesn’t want to believe anything Mrs. Smythe says, but she’s very worried about Savannah.”
“You know I’d never do anything to hurt Sav. Besides, there is no way of knowing who Melly’s father is.” Patrick took a long swig of his nearly forgotten drink. “I think my role of doting uncle is the only one I should play in Melly’s life. Melly can remain secure in her knowledge that Jeremy and Sav love her.”
Colin’s gaze was troubled. “Is that fair to you?” He cocked his head to the side, deep in thought. “I’ve always envisioned you involved as a father, like you are with Rose.”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s how it must be. It’s what’s best for everyone. I showed up too late, Col.” He shook his head with regret before heaving out a breath. “Now I have to tell Fee.”
Colin’s eyes bulged. “You haven’t told your wife?” He shook his head. “You don’t make life easy for yourself, brother.” He slung his arm around his shoulder and pointed him toward the bar’s exit. “Let’s head to your house. I’ll entertain Rose while you talk with Fiona.”
After a short walk through Uptown Butte, Patrick and Colin entered the comfortable home Savannah had purchased for Patrick as a wedding present. He shared it with Fiona and their daughter, Rose. The living room with fireplace was to the left of the entranceway with the kitchen nearly in front of the entrance. Inside the kitchen was a table where they ate their meals. Down the hallway were three bedrooms and a small bathroom. One of Patrick’s favorite parts of the house was the large front porch.
As they entered, they hung their coats on pegs by the door and called out a greeting as Rose tottered toward them. Patrick picked her up, kissing her on her cheek, and then passed her to Colin as she squealed and held out her arms to him.
“Cowin!” she said in a happy little girl’s singsongy voice, patting his whiskered face with her palms. She giggled as she traced his cheeks with her fingers and then played with his hair. Colin bent and nibbled her neck, earning a shrieking giggle. He lowered to the floor with her, helping her as her precarious balance nearly sent her tumbling. She ran toward a pile of wooden toys in the front room, looking over her shoulder for Colin to follow.
“Seems I’ll be occupied for some time,” Colin said with a laugh as he followed his niece. Patrick slapped him on his shoulder, walking to the kitchen.
He ran into a harried Fiona, wiping her hands on a cloth, as she was about to exit the kitchen. “Oomph,” he said, holding her a moment as she acted like their daughter, about to teeter over. She quickly regained her balance and backed away from him and his touch. “I didn’t see you.” He stroked a hand over her arm, sighing as she flinched at the movement.
“’Tis Colin’s voice I hear,
” Fiona said with a questioning lilt. “When did he arrive?”
“Just as work ended. He needed to discuss with me a concern in Missoula.” He watched Fiona closely. “He’ll spend the night.”
Her hands firmed on the towel. “Of course. I should prepare his room.” He stilled her erratic movement past him, urging her to sit on one of the low stools by the small table in the middle of the kitchen.
“That can keep. There’s something we must discuss, and I want to use the time he’s entertaining Rose to talk with you.” He watched her tense and fought the urge to soothe her with an unwelcome caress. “It has nothing to do with Rose or you.”
Her cognac-colored eyes lit with concern as she watched her husband fidget on his stool. “I’ve never seen you so nervous. Or indecisive. Tell me what concerns you for it can’t be that bad.”
Patrick took a deep breath and held very still as he spoke. “I told you about our stepmother, Mrs. Smythe.” At her nod, he continued in a flat voice. “She loved to provoke discord. She wanted to separate my father from his children as she wanted Da’s money for herself.”
“You’ve told me all this Patrick,” Fiona murmured, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“She’s in Missoula now, and she’s told my cousins, Jeremy and Savannah, that their daughter is really my daughter. With her.” He met Fiona’s shocked gaze. He barreled on when she remained silent. “It could be true. It probably isn’t.”
“How could it be true?” Fiona asked. “How could you not have told me this before?”
Patrick ran a hand over his face, now flaming red. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is?”
“To have a daughter?” Fiona asked, her expression one of disappointment.
“No, dammit.” He grabbed her hand, while his gaze held an entreaty for her to remain seated and hear him out. “Never that. I’d be overjoyed if Melly were mine, but I’d never want to hurt Sav and Jer who love her like their own.”
He exhaled. “I’m embarrassed because Mrs. Smythe crept into my bedroom one morning, and I wasn’t aware of what was occurring until too late.” His words came out in a rush, and she sat there a moment, blank-faced, contemplating what he said.
“She seduced you without you knowing about it?”
He flinched at the doubt in her voice. “There wasn’t much seduction involved. Surely you know from your first husband, sleeping men aren’t always fully sensate when their bodies are ready for … relations.”
Fiona watched him with dawning horror before clapping a hand over her mouth. He frowned as he expected her to rise, yell at him and run from the room. Instead she bent over, and a laugh burst out. “Oh, forgive me,” she whispered. “’Tis inappropriate.” She sat up as she wiped at her face, rubbing away a tear. He realized she was fighting a mixture of tears and laughter.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered.
She shook her head as her shoulders heaved until she reined in the strong emotions. She hiccupped and stuttered out a few breaths as she watched him with a yearning tenderness. He clasped his hands together to keep from reaching for her and having his actions rebuffed again. “I should have known, when you were so understanding with me,” she gasped out. “I should have realized you understood what it was to be used.”
Patrick frowned, his hands forming fists on the table. “How I was treated is in no way comparable to what you’ve suffered.”
She watched him mournfully. “Are you certain? You were separated from your family for over a decade, and even now you hold yourself aloof. You won’t allow yourself to live near them, desperate to maintain a distance I’ll never understand. And now to learn you’ve been denied the opportunity to know your daughter …” Her eyes filled with sympathetic tears now. “How do you bear it?”
Patrick sat stooped on the stool a moment, his gaze taking her in. “I don’t understand you.”
Fiona smiled sadly and rose. “And that’s a tragedy too,” she whispered as she moved from the kitchen to ready the spare bedroom for Colin.
Patrick sat alone in his kitchen while a pot of stew bubbled on the stovetop. Dishes had been set out for dinner; a loaf of bread sat on the counter, waiting to be sliced. He listened to his daughter’s infectious giggle and placed a hand on his chest, rubbing at an ache.
Fiona rose in the morning, moving barefoot and soundlessly to the kitchen. She frowned to discover Patrick at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee. She forced a placid expression on her face. “I’m sorry you were forced to make coffee,” she whispered, pulling out an apron. She moved to the icebox and pulled out eggs and bacon to prepare breakfast. “I didn’t hear you leave the room.”
“I don’t know why you would have as I slept on the couch last night.” He watched her with a fierce intensity, hiding a frown behind his cup when she stiffened. “Colin and I talked late into the night, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Is he still asleep?” Fiona cracked an egg with such force that part of the egg white splattered on the countertop.
“I assume he’ll sleep until Rose wakes.” Patrick stood to refill his coffee cup. “No one can sleep through the racket she makes.” Rather than eliciting a smile, Fiona abused the eggs. She whisked them in such an agitated manner that he settled a hand on her arm to calm her frantic movements.
“Does Colin know you didn’t sleep with me?” Fiona asked, her breath emerging in an agitated pant.
“I presume he does. Although I don’t know why that should bother you. He already knows he’s sleeping in my usual room.”
Fiona slammed down the bowl with such force he paused to ensure Rose hadn’t awoken.
“Fee, calm yourself.”
“You’re telling me that, all this time, your brother has known that we sleep apart?” Fiona looked everywhere but at her husband.
He sighed and ran a hand through his graying brown hair. “Yes.”
Fiona slapped her hands to her hips as she leaned toward her husband, glowering. “That’s all you have to say?”
Patrick moved to the kitchen door, kicking aside a small stool that held the door open and swung it shut. He watched her with confused earnestness and approached her to grip her shoulders, maintaining his hold even though she flinched at his touch. “Fee, I don’t understand why this upsets you. You haven’t wanted me to touch you. Not since before …” He raised an eyebrow. “Why does it bother you that my brother knows?”
She bit back tears. “Your family will believe we don’t have a real marriage. That I am an unsuitable wife for you,” she whispered. “I hate that they have intimate details about our marriage, are discussing how we live, judging me.”
He ran a finger down her cheek but dropped his hands when she jerked away from him. “No, they don’t, and they never have. They believe I’m fortunate to have found such a sensible woman who is a wonderful mother.” He watched her a moment, waiting for her response. When none came, he picked up his cup of coffee and left the kitchen.
Fiona watched his retreat and closed her eyes. She jerked when Colin cleared his throat. “Forgive me,” Fee said. “I wasn’t …”
“All will be forgiven if I can have a cup of coffee.”
Fiona laughed, reaching for a cup on the shelf over the sink. She handed it to him, and he poured himself some coffee. With his contented sigh at his first sip, she relaxed and approached the eggs she meant to scramble. Colin settled onto the stool used to prop open the door, appearing more asleep than awake.
“I have a question for you, Fee,” he asked as he took another sip of coffee, pausing to inhale the rich aromatic flavor. “If you want my brother, why don’t you do something about it? You’re already married to him. You’ve already lived through the dread of losing him.”
She shook her head, pulling out a fry pan to start the bacon. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I never said I would. Nor should I. I’m not your husband.” His gaze became more alert with each sip of coffee. “I do know you’re not nearly a
s happy as you could be.”
“And you think allowing my husband into my bed will ease all my concerns?” Fiona snapped, hissing as bacon fat sizzled and popped out of the pan, landing on her arm and singeing her skin.
Colin laughed. “I wish life were that simple. Then I think we’d all be a lot more content.” He watched her with exasperated fondness. “If you trusted him, shared what you truly felt with him and, yes, shared your bed with him, I think you would be much happier than you are now.” He rose and refilled his coffee cup. “I like you, Fee. And I love Patrick. It saddens me to see the same distance between you now as when you married.”
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before departing. The front door closed, and it sounded as though he’d joined Patrick on the front porch. Fiona stood staring at the stove with unseeing eyes, fighting panic as she contemplated Colin’s suggestions.
Patrick sat on the front porch, sipping his cooling cup of coffee and watching his neighbors. Children played on the sidewalk, the boys tossing balls back and forth while the girls jumped rope. He smiled at Colin as he joined him on the porch. “Sleep well?”
Colin nodded, blowing on his steaming cup of coffee. “Better than you, I imagine. Why didn’t you have me sleep on the couch?”
Patrick shrugged his shoulders. “I was fine. I don’t need much sleep.”
Colin rolled his eyes as he propped his legs on the porch’s banister. “That’s a load of horse dung, and you know it.” He slurped a sip of the hot coffee, wincing as his tongue burned. “What I don’t understand is why you’re sleeping in the guest bedroom all these years later.”
“Let it be, Col.” Patrick swore when Colin hit him in the arm, upending half his coffee mug on his leg. He swiped at his pants, but it did little to remove the wet stain.
“You’re married to a woman you love and who cares for you. I think she might love you, but she’s hard to read. I don’t understand why you don’t push her a little. See if you can change how things are between you.”
Patrick glared at his brother. “Oh, so now you’re a fount of relationship advice? How are things between you and Araminta? Have you pressured her lately? How did that go?”
Resilient Love: Banished Saga, Book 7 Page 9